


Make My Heart Beat Double Time

by OnlySecondsAway



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: College AU, Drug Use, M/M, Marijuana Use, Roommates, stoner bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySecondsAway/pseuds/OnlySecondsAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky Barnes meets his new roommate, he can't quite figure out what the guy's problem is. Bucky never did anything wrong, so why does he hate him so much? Then again, Bucky never did read people well.</p><p>But hey, at least he doesn't care when Bucky gets high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make My Heart Beat Double Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've published in forever, I'm definitely out of practice.
> 
> Got the idea for this from a post made by tumblr user alenie that said: "has someone written the obligatory Steve/Bucky college au where Steve is totally straightlaced and totally straight—or at least, that’s what his roommate Bucky thinks until, on a whim, he invites Steve to get high with him?"
> 
> So then I wanted to write it.
> 
> Not beta'd, and written quickly as a break from studying for finals. Let me know if there are any glaring mistakes!
> 
> Title from The Kill's "Sour Cherry"

_Well damn_ , Bucky thinks when the tall, blonde, marble statue of man walks into his dorm room.  _He’s hot._

 

After staring for a few seconds too long, Bucky shakes the hair out of his eyes and stands up, pushing his bong and stash off to the side.

 

“Steve Rogers,” says the new guy, frowning slightly at Bucky and extending a hand.

 

“Yeah, right, you’re my new roommate,” Bucky affirms. He wipes his hand on his old, black jeans before offering it to Steve, whose eyes follow the movement with a suspicious look. “I’m Bucky.”

 

“I thought my roommate’s name was James?” Steve asks, entirely too skeptical for Bucky’s liking.

 

_Why do the hot ones always have to be so uptight?_

 

“Oh, yeah, well, that’s my real name. Bucky’s a nickname. I guess you can use either?” He offers with a slight shrug. “But uh, go ahead and make yourself at home, man.” The gesture he makes around the tiny dorm room is probably unnecessary, but damn, this guy makes him nervous.

 

“Right,” Steve says with a quick glance around him. “Anything in particular I need to know?” He sets his duffle bag down on the floor, and places a box on the empty bed.

 

“Not much, I guess. I’m a pretty easy going guy, so as long as you’re cool, I’m cool,” he says as he sits back down on the floor with his bong. “This won’t bother you, will it? I can find someplace else,” he offers.

 

Steve pauses for a moment, and Bucky can’t read the expression on his face. “No, go ahead. I’m just going to grab my other bag,” he says before he turns quickly and walks out the door.

 

 _Well, that was weird_ , Bucky thinks as he laughs and takes a hit.

 

\---------

 

Three weeks later, and Bucky still can’t get a read on the new guy. While he’s definitely an improvement from his last roommate, an electrical engineering major who partied too hard, brought over too many girls, and graduated like a thousand semesters early, Steve’s probably the most straight-laced guy he’s ever met. He has almost nothing personal in his belongings, except for an old compass, and he wears a variation of the exact same thing everyday, black or khaki pants and a button down shirt.

 

He spends most of his time in class or at the library with his laptop and massive pile of books, so Bucky assumes he’s some kind of history major. He wouldn’t know, though, because the guy will barely talk to him. Bucky’s tried to invite him out with him on weekends, but he always just looks Bucky up and down, and then politely declines.

 

This is the first time that they’ve spent any substantial time in the same space while they’re both awake. Clint and Natasha, Bucky’s two closest friends, both went home for the weekend, so he doesn’t have much to do.

 

He’s been staring at the posters on his wall for way too long.  _Maybe that’s why Steve seems to avoid me_ , he thinks as he looks over the posters for bisexual pride, a handful of rock bands, and a copy of the cover of  _War and Peace_.

 

 _Maybe he’s one of those really conservative guys who never gets out_ , he wonders.  _Maybe he’s even homophobic?_  But Bucky just doesn’t quite get  _that_  vibe.

 

Bucky sighs and pushes his laptop off his stomach and sits up. Before he grabs his weed off his desk, he looks at Steve. “You mind, man? I have shit else to do.”

 

Steve just stares for a moment, something he seems to do a lot to Bucky, and shakes his head, a piece of blonde hair falling in his perfect eyes. “Go ahead,” he answers, and looks back to his book.

 

 _Who studies on a Friday night?_  Bucky thinks as he nods and starts to roll a joint.

 

He doesn’t know what makes him say it, but he sets the joint on his knee and looks back at Steve.

 

“You’re welcome to join, if you want? I mean, I know you don’t do shit like this, but like, it’s cool if you want to, or something,” he offers as he scratches his knee through a hole in his old jeans. “I wouldn’t mind the company, and you look like you could loosen up. Or, well, that didn’t sound right. I just mean, maybe you want a study break?” He knows he’s babbling, but at this point he doesn’t know what to say.

 

Steve just continues to look at him, before actually nodding. “Sure,” he says, as he puts his textbook to the side.

 

He strips off his button down and pulls one of his workout shirts out of his laundry hamper. Somehow, Bucky had yet to receive the privilege of seeing Steve without his shirt, and now he’s the one staring. Marble statue was definitely the right first impression.

 

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes. “I just didn’t want to stink up a clean shirt,” he explains as he sits at the foot of Bucky’s bed and turns to face him.

 

“Oh, yeah,  sure, no problem, I get it,” Bucky rambles on again, still surprised that Steve is sitting across from him, waiting to smoke a joint. “Uh, so, yeah, here, you go ahead.” He gives Steve his lighter and joint, along with his most charming smile. While the lighting may not be the best in their room, he’s almost positive Steve may have just blushed. _Weird._

 

Steve’s fingers brush his own, and quickly pull back. Steve’s stares at the joint for a moment, before he brings it to those perfect pink lips and lights the end, inhaling like a pro.

 

 _Okay, so Mr. Steve Rogers may not be as straight-laced as I thought_ , Bucky thinks, unable to bring his eyes away from the way Steve’s lips blow out a few perfect smoke rings.

 

He passes the joint back to Bucky, who takes his hit. After passing that one back and forth for a while, Bucky rolls them another one, and puts on some music to fill the silence spots in their conversation. At least he’s learned something about the guy; Steve turns out to be pretty talkative when he loosens up a bit.

 

He now knows he’s a History and English double major, not so different from his own Russian Literature major. And he knows he’s from Brooklyn, not too far from where Bucky actually grew up. He knows he has pretty old-fashioned taste in music and movies, which isn’t really all that surprising. But he does surprise Bucky when he lets on that he got into a lot of trouble as a kid, only settling down to help his mom when his dad died at the end of high school.

 

When he looks back to Steve to take the joint, Steve’s just staring at him again with that same, impossible to read expression.

 

“What?” he demands, The Kills now playing from his laptop.

 

“What?” Steve responds back, definitely blushing now.

 

“Why are you always frowning at me like that?” Bucky asks, feeling like an idiot. “Why do you hate me?”

 

“I don’t hate you!” He blurts out very quickly, the blush creeping down his neck.

 

“Well you avoid our room all the time, and you never talk to me,” Bucky retorts, running his hand through his messy mop of brown hair. “You’re always giving me this weird look, and this is the first time I’ve learned anything about you besides your name,” he says, glancing at the wall to avoid looking Steve in the eye.

 

“Yeah, but,” Steve responds weakly, looking anywhere but Bucky, “I don’t hate you.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, almost pleadingly. “I’m quiet while you sleep, I only go out on weekends, I keep all my mess to my side of the room, I shower regularly, I even vacuum. And I really want to like you. We seem to have stuff in common, you’re clean, organized, you’re cool with me smoking in the room, you look like a  _Greek god_ ,” Bucky’s eyes widen when he says that, looking straight to Steve to catch his reaction.

 

Steve’s now blushing furiously, and he shakes his head, but all he can offer is another quiet “I don’t  _hate you._ ”

 

Bucky just nods dumbly, accepting that maybe that’s all he’s going to get out of him. But maybe this can be a turning point for them.

 

He takes the joint Steve still has between his fingers and takes a long drag, and settles down next to Steve, instead of across from him.

 

“Okay,” he says, and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, offering up the joint.

 

The music transitions to a Led Zeppelin song, and Steve gets chatty again. Bucky just listens this time, feeling Steve’s voice vibrate in his chest, against his head. He’s telling a story about a back alley fight he got into, which ends with Bucky in a fit of laughter.

 

“I was a small kid, it’s not my fault!” Steve defends. “Stop laughing at me!” But he’s grinning, too.

 

Bucky takes a hit and lifts his head from his shoulder at the same moment that Steve looks down at him, and before he can process anything Steve’s mouth is sealed against his.

 

The surprise of it fades, and he relaxes into the kiss, exhaling the smoke from his lungs into Steve’s mouth, who smiles and inhales, pulling away from Bucky’s lips.

 

Oh. Bucky thinks he gets it now.

 

“So you don’t hate me, then?” Bucky asks, eyes half closed, blissed out smile on his face.

 

“No, I really don’t,” Steve says, and he leans in to kiss Bucky again, pushing him against the pillows.

 


End file.
